


Ready Player 3

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians
Genre: Multi, Pegging, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: When it’s time for Margo to enter a physical relationship with Quentin and Eliot, she has a ritual that will bond the three of them together but Quentin is apprehensive. Can Eliot soothe his lover and help him accept that Margo is the final piece of their polyamorous puzzle?
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Ready Player 3

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own these characters, I just play with them and hose them off afterward. Thanks to Machtaholic for the inspiration! For more fic fun, follow me at @Neptunes_Net on Twitter. Comments and kudos are magic and, as always, enjoy!

“El . . . I don’t know about this.” 

Eliot turned from the dresser to regard his lover, who sat cross-legged on the bed in nothing but a pair of grey cotton sleep pants. Freshly showered, his tawny hair still damp, Quentin looked beautiful to Eliot as ever, a mix of sensuality and innocence that made him want the young magician each time Eliot laid eyes on him. They’d been seeing each other shortly after Quentin returned to Fillory after setting Alice free from the cacodemon tattoo on his back and realized that his desire for Eliot was much more than wine and emotion magic. Now, six months later, he, Eliot, and Margo ruled Fillory together, took meals together, went on long horseback rides (with Margo playfully taunting Quentin about his lack of horseback skills,) and shared almost everything with each other. 

Now it was time to fill in that last bubble and invite Margo into their bed. The High Queen had agreed it was time, but with one stipulation: that Quentin would bottom for her and her favorite strap on. 

“Consider it my bonding ritual,” she had said to both men the night before. “I need to know Q trusts me completely, and missionary isn’t going to prove shit.” 

Quentin had tentatively agreed to Margo’s terms but now, faced with his growing vulnerability and Margo’s trusty toy, Eliot could see Quentin was losing his nerve. 

“Honeylove . . .” Eliot went to him, sat down, took his hands. “Don’t overthink this! It’s not that much different than when you and I are together. It’ll feel just as good, and if you can take what I give you--” 

“Conceited,” Quentin interrupted with a frown, and Eliot chuckled. 

“Well, you know what I mean. And I’m going to be here every moment.” He stroked his thumbs over the backs of Quentin’s hands. “You trust us, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Quentin nodded. “Just . . . I’ve never--you know. With a fake thing before.” 

“You won’t even feel the difference when it’s pressing your prostate like someone prank-ringing a doorbell.” 

“El!” 

“What? I’m helping!” 

“Christ. Are you two still going over this?” 

The two men glanced up to see Margo standing in the bathroom doorway in a short red-and-black satin robe, her long hair down, the subtle scent of orchids surrounding her. Quentin chewed his lower lip a moment. 

“No. It’s--I’m okay, Margo.” 

Margo approached the bed. 

“I need your full consent on this, Quentin. Because it’s not about sex, or having an orgasm. It’s about how much you trust me. Remember?” 

“I remember.” 

“Good.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “So, what’s it going to be?” 

Quentin glanced up at Eliot but Margo cupped his chin and turned his head back to her, dark eyes meeting dark eyes. Quentin nodded. 

“I consent, Margo,” he said after a moment, and she stroked his cheek. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Oh, and also? While this is not about having an orgasm, I absolutely guarantee you one.” 

“He’s not used to toys,” Eliot chimed in, and Margo nodded. 

“Well, it’s time to get up close and personal with my favorite one.” She stood, untied her robe, and let it slide from her shoulders. A slim maroon harness encircled her hips, and a flesh-colored dildo jutted from its front. Margo stroked a hand over it. “Seven inches, baby,” she smiled. “With a very flexible silicone nub on the inner harness that feels like the world’s best cunnilingus when I get going--Q, are you blushing?” 

“No!” Quentin wiped a hand over his face, his cheeks pink. Margo rolled her eyes but smiled and tugged him closer. 

“C’mon . . . get to know my friend.” She took his hand and tugged it to the dildo. Quentin touched it and his eyes widened slightly. 

“It--it feels real!” 

“What did you expect to feel like, raspberry sorbet? It’s a dildo, Q! Flexible and ribbed and comfortable.” She tugged at the waistband of his lounge pants. “Let’s lose these. El, did you bring the lube?” 

“It’s on the nightstand,” Eliot nodded. “Very Cherry Tingle.” 

“You have such good taste.” She glanced from one man to the other. “Now . . . Bambi is going to drive--stick--” she grinned, one hand gripping the dildo, “--and Eliot, a little foreplay if you please? It’ll get us all revved up.” 

“With pleasure!” Eliot smiled, dropping his own robe before whisking away Quentin’s pants with a murmured spell. Quentin made a small noise of surprise. 

“Hey! You could have asked me to just take them off!’ 

“Oooh, grumpy puppy!” Eliot grinned, taking Quentin into his arms. Quentin huffed and squirmed, not yet ready to be placated by his lover’s kisses. 

“Don’t call me Puppy!” 

“But you are,” Eliot murmured in his ear, then nibbled his earlobe. Another sound, this one of sudden pleasure, escaped Quentin. “My sweet little Puppy . . .” Eliot’s lips traveled down and worked along one side of Quentin’s neck until he found the spot that made him shiver. Quentin’s hands gripped Eliot’s arms. 

“El . . .” 

“Mmmhmmm,” Eliot answered as he eased Quentin down onto the bed. “You’re going to love this, Q, I promise.” He kissed his way down Quentin’s lean pecs, pausing to lavish attention on each nipple until Quentin’s hips began to roll. Margo watched as she fondled her breasts. 

“What a sight,” she sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed to get a better look. Eliot wrapped his long fingers around Quentin’s cock, which was already starting to flex and harden. Eliot teased the tip with his thumb as his tongue roved over Quentin’s right nipple. Quentin made a soft, needy sound and his hips began to roll. Eliot grinned and pulled his hand away before stroking a hand over his own erection. Quentin gazed up at them, his body language suggesting both arousal and compliance. Margo nudged him. 

“C’mon . . . up on all fours.” 

Quentin obeyed, rolling over and rising up on his hands and knees. Margo ran her hands over his asscheeks and reached for the lube. She snapped the cap up and dripped some out over her fingers. Eliot shifted around until he was kneeling in front of Quentin, giving him a fine vantage point for the proceedings. Margo caught his eye and smiled before she slid a finger down and then forward, entering Quentin’s tight heat. Quentin twitched and Eliot stroked his face. 

“Easy, Q . . . she just has to get you ready, like I do for you when we’re together. You’re okay . . . relax, sweetie.” 

“I’m okay--Oh!” Quentin gasped as Margo added another finger before she started to gently move them without pulling out, allowing him to stretch and relax. His cock gave an eager throb and he hunched slightly to make contact with the silky duvet beneath him. Margo used her free hand to give one upturned cheek a smart slap. Quentin yelped and looked over his shoulder. The corners of her cupid’s bow lips quirked upward. 

“None of that! I’m going to make you come, not Eliot’s thread count.” 

“Uhm. Sorry.” 

“That’s okay. Just be a good boy.” Margo separated her busy fingers, working them around until she felt Quentin press against her. She got to her knees, glad of Quentin’s compact size; when she’d done Eliot this way for the first time, she’d damn near needed a stepladder. She lubed up from shaft to tip, putting a generous amount on the latter, and began to work her way into the young magician. Quentin gave a quivering gasp and Eliot watched, his amber eyes hooded with arousal. Margo took her time, giving Quentin the full seven inches before adjusting the harness so the silicone nub rested against her clit. Quentin groaned and his hips bucked, but Margo knew the groan wasn’t one of pain--Eliot was quite a few inches bigger than what he’d just taken. She settled her hands at Quentin’s hips and began to thrust, grinning as the heady feeling of dominance streamed through her. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Eliot asked his lover and Quentin’s expression filled with pleasure. He stroked Quentin’s cheek and Quentin licked his thumb, giving a small mewl as he tried to suck it into his mouth. Eliot grinned. “Does my sweet boy want something to suck on?” He asked, and Quentin nodded as his body rocked with Margo’s steady strokes. Eliot shifted closer, on his knees, and lifted his erection to Quentin’s lips. He teased the younger man, painting his curved upper lip with fluid. Quentin opened his mouth, his expression eager and Eliot obliged, sliding over Quentin’s tongue and into his mouth, offering him as much as he could take. Quentin closed his lips around it, happily sandwiched between Margo and Eliot, his own cock stiff and dripping between his thighs. Eliot petted and stroked his long hair, maintaining eye contact with Margo, feeling a thread of connection that he’d never experienced before, even though he and Margo had taken others to bed with them in the past during their time at Brakebills. Margo’s dark eyes reflected the heat he felt as she plunged into Quentin again and again. 

“So good . . . so good, my sweet boy . . .” Eliot murmured as Quentin’s mouth did devastating things to his cock. Margo’s breathing had picked up as well and as Eliot watched, she gripped Quentin’s hips, pulled him back and held him there, grinding herself against the slippery nub until her cheeks, neck, and chest flushed a dark pink and she shuddered, angling the dildo differently until it hit Quentin’s sweet spot. She jabbed at it half a dozen times as she reached around to flog Quentin’s erection and Quentin’s body began to wrack with shudders of pure pleasure as he came, whimpering and moaning around Eliot’s erection. Eliot watched, that undeniable lift of orgasm swelling in his own lower belly and he pulled out of Quentin’s mouth to stroke himself and press a finger against his own perineum. Quentin, who understood what spurred his lover on, tilted his chin upward and opened his mouth. A moment later he was taking Eliot’s load all over his cheeks, lips, and chin, where Eliot could watch it drip off. He grinned, the sight arousing him as it always did. Margo’s thrusts slowed and then stopped, and she rested her forehead against the small of Quentin’s back. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, and Eliot nodded as he materialized a warm, wet cloth into his left hand. He cleaned Quentin’s face with it as the younger man looked up at him, eyelids at half mast, like a happy cat. Once he was clean, Eliot leaned over and kissed his lips. 

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured, distracting him as Marog pulled the toy out of him. The harness dropped away a moment later and Margo tugged Quentin down onto the mattress to give him a kiss full of much more tenderness than he’d thought possible of her. 

“And here you thought I didn’t like any of the Quentins,” she teased, and Quentin gave her a sheepish grin. 

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” 

“All signs point to no.” 

Eliot turned and spooned Quentin from behind and he nestled in between him and Margo with a sated sigh. 

“We, uh . . . we can do this again, right?” 

“Duh,” Margo smiled, stroking his face. “And El’s right . . . you did great, sweetie.” 

Quentin took those words with him as sleep started to steal over him, his body and mind relaxed and at peace. 

_We’re a triangle,_ he thought to himself. _Nature’s strongest shape. Steady. Stable. Everlasting._

_THE END_


End file.
